


Idiota

by TheScribz



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Humor, Italian Apollo Cabin, M/M, Nico is a Dork, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 07:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10612224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScribz/pseuds/TheScribz
Summary: The Apollo cabin speaks horrible Americanized Italian because it’s the language of music (like how Piper can speak French, the language of love). The Apollo cabin uses this to gossip, not realizing that anyone can understand them (Nico doesn’t get why they don’t think he can understand them. His fucking name is Italian. He was born in Venice. And truthfully, their Italian is fucking awful). The Apollo cabin takes to teasing Will about his crush in front of Nico. Who can understand them. Because Italian is his native fucking language.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had lots of requests to put in the English translation. Ask and ye shall receive. Now featuring minor edits, pop culture references, and 30% more snarky Nico!

Nico isn’t quite sure how he ended up in the infirmary. Somehow he was ambushed, press-ganged into a bed, with his vitals taken and an IV forced into his arm. His fellow campers slash medical care professionals (did they count as medical care professionals? Yes Apollo was their dad, but did that mean that they like automatically had medical knowledge? Or did they just kind of pick it up? Should he start referring to them as doctors?) bustled about, checking medical equipment, tending to other patients, and generally being efficient. They left Nico alone for the most part, as he had little physical wounds, and they were mostly concerned with his sleep deprivation, overall exhaustion, and the slightly worrying tendency for his limbs to disappear when he was stressed.

“Potete crederci?” (Can you believe it?)

Nico’s head snapped up and turned to the source of the words. He could’ve sworn that he heard Italian, but… wrong. Something was off.

“Che cosa?” (What?) Austin asked. Kayla and Austin were talking off to the side. They were speaking Italian, but without any of the natural inflections of the language. They spoke in completely American accents; the words came out sounding more like “po-teet cree-der-si” and “chay coosah”. Nico winced at hearing the language butchered so completely.

“La ragazza dalla cabina bellezza ha rotto un chiodo e ha pianto per un'ora” (The girl from the beauty cabin broke a nail and cried for an hour.) Kayla smirked. “Lei non smetteva di piangere fino a quando Will le ha detto che preferiva unghie corte sulle ragazze.” (She did not stop crying until Will told her that he preferred short nails on girls.) Nico wondered why they were talking about other patients in front of him, and why they would call someone ‘from the beauty cabin’ – from Aphrodite’s cabin maybe?

“Beh, sai Will. Sempre un flirt con quelle belle,” (Well, you know Will. Always a flirt with the pretty ones.) Austin answered, before (bafflingly enough) nodding his over towards Nico’s bed. Having heard his name, Will wandered over to join the conversation with his siblings.

“Ho sentito il mio nome. quali sono i miei preferiti perdenti parlando?” (I heard my name. What are my favorite losers talking about?) Will asked cheerfully, bouncing on the balls of his feet and darting his eyes over the visible patients. He didn’t look like he could sit still – too much kinetic energy, frenetic and buzzing at the tips of his fingers. Nico could respect that – ADHD was diagnosed in nearly all demigods, and even if Will wasn’t much of a fighter, no one could deny that he was Greek through and through – though it didn’t explain his sudden propensity for badly-pronounced Italian.

“Solo spettegolare sui bambini bellezza!” (Just gossiping about beauty kids!) Kayla answered, equally cheerful.

Will laughed. “Sì! Non riuscivo a farla smettere di piangere. I bambini di bellezza sono sempre il peggio. lesioni piccole ma grandi lamentele.” (Yup! I could not stop her crying. Beauty babies are always the worst. Minor injuries but major complaints.)

Austin waggled his eyebrows “Beh, ho sentito che c'era un modo in cui il suo smetterla.” (Well, I heard there was a way to stop her.)

Will laughed harder, putting his hands up. “No, no, lo sai che non mi piace quel modo. Ora mi scusi, ho un lavoro vero e proprio da fare! Andare al lavoro, fannulloni!” (No, no, you know I do not like her that way. Now excuse me, I have a real job to do! Going to work, slackers!) Done with the conversation, Will made his way back to Nico’s bed.

Will noticed Nico staring at him, and moved to explain his conversation. “Ah, sorry about that. The Apollo cabin can speak Italian, language of music and all that, y’know? It’s nice to have a private conversation sometimes at a camp this big. Don’t worry, we don’t say anything too bad, though I can make sure they don’t speak Italian around you if it bothers you. Some people don’t like it when we speak in front of them and they can’t understand us.”

Nico stared at him for a minute, before he made a decision.

“Uhh no, it’s ok. I don’t mind. Though it didn’t sound very Italian." 

Will laughed some more (why was he doing that so often today? Did someone spike juice at breakfast? Now that he thought about it, Nico supposed that was an actual concern with the Stolls around) “Well, we’re not actually Italian! Apparently Apollo only blesses us with the vocabulary, not the accent. If we wanted to speak Italian for real, we’d have to practice, and to be honest we’re too lazy for that most of the time. We can understand each other, and we can understand the Operas the Austin plays on youtube, and that’s good enough for most of us. Speaking of which, did you know your name means “Angel” in italian?”

Nico squinted at him for a minute, unsure if he was serious or not. “My name is literally angel with an ‘o’ at the end of it, Will. It wasn’t a great leap of logic.”

Will’s smile only widened at Nico’s caustic attitude. “Okay then, Nico di _Angel_ o.” Nico winced at the mispronunciation of his name, the hard _A_  that belonged nowhere in Italian grating on his nerves. “I’ve got other patients to check on. Get some rest. Try not to think too much about the actions of the Apollo cabin. It never reflects well on us.” With a wink, Will left. 

Nico contemplated this new information in his solitude. About three things, he was absolutely positive:

  
First: The Apollo cabin spoke absolutely horrendous, americanized Italian, not realizing anyone could understand them.

Second: There was a part of Nico – and he didn’t know how dominant that part might be – that wanted to let this continue and see where it would go.

And third: This was probably the best thing that had happened to him in the past century.

Nico decided to keep quiet about the fact that _he was born in Venice, and Italian was his native fucking language._  He would see where it went.

 

 

* * *

 

Nico woke up later (that evening? The next morning? Fuck, how long did he even sleep for? Maybe he needed to stay in the infirmary more than he realized) to Will fixing his blankets and checking his IV and vitals. He apparently wasn’t very happy with what he found (it was probably the fact that Nico’s hand was currently transparent. Hey, some people sneeze when they step into the sunlight, Nico happens to disappear when he’s nervous. It’s a quirk, okay?) Nico didn’t say anything, just watched Will’s brows furrow and noticed the bags under his eyes for the first time. He was tempted to reach up, to smooth down the wrinkle in Will’s forehead and put a smile back on his friend’s face. Instead, he squeezed his hands, pressing them firmly on his legs, twisted his skull ring around his finger, and pretended to be asleep.

As it turned out, Nico didn’t need to worry, because Kayla came shuffling over (it must be morning, Nico thought. The infirmary was too quiet to be any time other than the ass crack of dawn).

“Hey Will,” she murmured to his side. Neither seemed to notice that Nico was awake. “Tifo te stesso controllando il vostro paziente preferito?” (Cheering yourself up by checking your favorite patient?) There was a smile in her voice. When Will didn’t answer, didn’t seem to respond to the light teasing, she continued. “È carino. Si potrebbe fare di peggio.” (He's cute. You could do worse.)

This got Will to respond, though it wasn’t the furious denials that Nico was expecting.

“Lui è carino. Lui mi preoccupa. Lui non sta migliorando più velocemente come vorrei.” (He is cute. He worries me. He is not improving as fast as I would like.)

Nico was glad it was dark, as it helped hide the blush on his cheeks. He shifted a little, hoping that they would have enough decency and shame to not talk about how attractive he was while he was awake, even if they thought he was awake.

No such luck. 

A petite girl, who Nico vaguely recognized as a younger member of the Apollo cabin, came over and joined the conversation, along with Austin and another boy. “Stiamo parlando di soggetto preferito di Will, il ragazzo la morte?” (We are talking about a Will's favorite subject, the death boy.) Nico opened his eyes to see her quirk a smile, shameless in her apparent safety of a language barrier. Nico felt he should be offended by the nickname, but it wasn’t that far from the truth, He did call himself the ghost king for a year, after all. Besides, it was probably a good idea for them to come up with nicknames for people, if they were going to gossip about people in front of them. The others jeered, contributing with stories of how apparently steamrolled conversations by talking about Nico – how cool Nico was, how strong Nico was, how cute Nico was today, et cetera. Nico flushed down his neck and to the tips of his ears.

Will seemed to take that as a cue that Nico wasn’t okay with so many of Will’s cabin mates speaking in foreign language around him. Will laughed self deprecatingly, rubbed the back of his neck, then shooed his siblings off. “Sorry about them. We can get a little… excitable in the mornings. It’s an Apollo thing.”

“You guys seem to have a lot of Apollo things.” Nico commented wryly.

Will just smiled, then continued checking the equipment Nico was hooked up to, having been interrupted earlier. As Nico’s limbs were whole an accounted for, his vitals were fine (though his heart rate had increased a little, Will noticed absently), and Nico seemed the most well-rested he had ever been, Will decided that the mandatory three days in the infirmary was ultimately a good idea.

“We’ll keep you for another 24 hours. Get some more rest, Nico. We’ll wake you for lunch.” 

Nico didn’t see the point in arguing with the order, and slipped back into a dreamless sleep.

  

* * *

 

 

It was the end of Nico’s imprisonment in the infirmary, and Nico was very glad to be going. He like spending time with Will of course, but three days stuck in a bed is a long time for anyone, let alone a demigod with ADHD who hadn’t taken a break from fighting in over a year. Nico was on edge and itching to have his sword back in his hand. That had been a rule after an Ares kid almost took of a healer’s head during a nightmare – no weapons in the infirmary. It was a logical decision, but that didn’t mean Nico had to like it. 

Kayla came over to unhook him from his IV and monitors, as Will had to go take care of a camper with an arrow in their thigh. Nico and Kayla made small talk for a few minutes, before the conversation came round to Nico’s medical file – or more specifically, Nico’s lack of a medical file. 

“We’re missing some information that could be beneficial to your treatment in the future. Do you mind sticking around for a few more minutes and answering some questions?”

Nico wanted to say that yes, he did actually mind, he had a date with the target practice dummies, but the words got stuck in his throat when he saw her earnest, eager expression. He resigned himself to more time in the infirmary with shagging shoulders. “Fine.”

Kayla lit up, and bounced (seriously, bounced) off to go find a medical file for Nico. “Okay Nico, Date of Birth?”

“January 28th, 1924”

Kayla paused at this, but is time spent in the Casino was actually a fairly common rumor, so he was only confirming what many campers suspected. Nico didn’t particularly care, it wasn’t like he was keeping the information a secret.

“All right then. Where were you born? And I don’t suppose you have any vaccination records?”

“Ah... No vaccination records. Or shots at all, actually. I was born in Venice in the 1920s, people weren’t too concerned with that in Italy at the time.” 

Her head snapped up at this. “You were born… But that means you…” She floundered, looking dumbfounded.

Nico blushed, but nodded. “I, um, wasn’t going to say anything. But. I mean.” He paused, trying to collect himself. “I would appreciate if you wouldn’t tell Will. I kind of like hearing what he has to say about me.” He looked away from her, nervous about her reaction. Oh gods, what if she thought he was a major creep for not saying anything? He was surprised when she laughed, and turned to look at her, blush staining his entire face.

“Well, that makes this a little more interesting. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.” Kayla winked. With that, she finished the rest of her questions, and sent Nico on his way.

He went to the training arena to take his stress out on the training dummies, swinging his sword, slashing and stabbing in turns, whirling faster and faster until he was dripping with sweat and thinking about nothing but the metal in his palm and the stuffing littered at his feet.

 

* * *

 

Back at the infirmary, Will was bombarded by his siblings.

“Ask him out Will!” They urged him, but Will deflected. He wasn’t ready, wasn’t sure enough that Nico liked him, wasn’t going to put himself out there at the risk of a perfectly good friendship.

“Just tell him you like him in Italian’” Kayla suggested. “It’ll help you get it off your chest a little, so you won’t stress over it so much.” The others nodded in agreement with her.

“Okay, okay, I’ll think about it. In the mean time, get back to work. We’ve got an Aphrodite kid with a rash, 3 Ares kids who were training with swords and got hurt, and Percy somehow managed to get himself stabbed with his pen. Don’t ask me how, it wasn’t with the sword, it was legitimately with his pen. Someone go get the bandages. I don’t reward idiocy with ambrosia.”

Will walked off, leaving Kayla to smirk with her siblings and high five each other.

“Operation: Solangelo is a go.” She whispered to herself. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, Nico was still at the training arena, sweat dripping off his face and down his back, black boots squelching uncomfortably on his feet. He took a long drag of his water, turning around when he heard someone clear their throat.

Will Solace stood behind him, blush painted on his ears as he tried very hard not to stare at the hard lines of Nico’s back, the strip of skin exposed on his abdomen as he greedily sucked down water, or the way his dark eyes were glittering from the adrenaline of the exercise.

“Penso che tu sia carino, e forte, e coraggioso, e mi piaci, Nico Di Angelo.” (I think you are cute, strong, and brave, and I like you, Nico Di Angelo.) Will said, all at once, as if he had been practicing the words all the way down from the infirmary and forced them out towards the ground. He said them like the words were air in a balloon – in a rush, with no chance of stopping them once they had started, and the absence of them left him deflated. Nico took a minute to parse the words out through his (terrible) accent and his fast speech.

“Mi piaci troppo, idiota.” (I like you too, idiot.) Nico answered, the words lilted perfectly and rolling off his tongue. Will jerked his head up, and looked so confused, like he didn’t know what to respond to first – that Nico liked him back, that he spoke Italian, or the way he spoke it, like it was an old friend, comfortable on his lips.

Nico took pity on him, while Will stood silently, clearly thrown for a loop. “I like you too, idiot. I don’t know how you didn’t figure out I was Italian, Will, but I was literally born in Venice. My name is Italian – the first name and last name, and my accent was pretty Italian for the first few years I was here. It was pretty obvious.”

“So the whole time we were talking in front of you, you could understand us?” Will asked, looking like he wished the ground would swallow him up, or maybe his father would show him mercy and burn him to a crisp right where he stood.

Nico smiled, and answered, “Cute _and_ brave, huh? That’s high praise.”

“Oh gods,” Will said, burying his face in his arms. “This is too embarrassing. I must be dreaming. I’ve never been so mortified in my life.”

“No dreams, idiota.” Nico pried Will’s arms gently from his face, and telegraphed his movements, watching for any signs that he was unwelcome, before leaning in and reaching up on his tiptoes to press his lips against Will’s.

Nico broke the kiss suddenly, and glared up at Will. “You need Italian lessons, though! I’ve never heard my language butchered so much! And you can’t just transcribe English into Italian! Context is important!” As Nico continued to rant about the atrocities the Apollo committed upon his language, Will laughed and wrapped his arms around Nico’s waist, resting his chin on Nico’s shoulder.

“Kayla didn’t even figure out I was Italian until she was asking me about my medical record. Then she even asked about my vaccination records. As if Italians were concerned with shots back in the 1920’s. We were much more worried about Mussolini to be bothered with being jabbed with needles all the time.” Nico continued. Will, who had lost the plot of Nico’s tirade, suddenly sharpened.

Will frowned. “You’ve never been vaccinated?” 

“Never.”

 “Unacceptable. You will not be giving this camp Polio. Have you even heard of Whooping Cough, Nico di Angelo?” Will dragged a protesting Nico back to the infirmary.

Nico didn’t leave the infirmary for quite a while, following that.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! I'm always trying to improve my writing. Also, sorry to any Italians I've offended with this story - I've taken exactly one semester of Italian, then promptly forgotten it all, so I've relied on google translate for this story.


End file.
